


What Am I To You?

by misslizanne



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misslizanne/pseuds/misslizanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fic for the lovely aisalynn! Happy Valentine's Day!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aisalynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aisalynn/gifts).



“We got lucky that time,” Emma said, her voice shaky as she tried to catch her breath, her body still trembling from the earth-shattering shriek that wretched villain let out before she disappeared with a puff of green smoke.

Regina sighed, picking herself off the ground, scanning the perimeter as a precaution, looking for any sign of the Wicked Witch. “You could say that again.”

David was the first to start talking strategy, rolling out a map of Storybrooke, the men huddling around the table. Emma stayed near Snow, checking on her mother’s well-being (since a pregnant woman really had no place on the battlefield... even if that battlefield was a seaside town in Maine). She glanced over at the men, watching as Regina strolled over to add her two cents, her face stern as she argued with Robin.

Emma’s eyes drifted over, noticing the gaze of a certain pirate leading straight towards her, examining her figure while he added snarky comments to the conversation, trying to prove his attention was not completely affixed on her.

God, he was insufferable, ridiculous, and right now, unbelievably infuriating, his eyes bearing down on her like she was some sort of pirate treasure he was looking to steal, the soft smile quirking in the corners of his lips each time she accidentally made contact. It made her beyond uncomfortable and she struggled to look away, to turn her attention back to her mother, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of his gaze burning into her back, setting her ablaze with want and need and thoughts she didn’t have time for right now. Not with the increase in sheriff duties since her return to town, their new war with the Wicked Witch, and the constant onslaught of conflicting memories in her brain since he’d found her.

She watched as he bode farewell to Robin and David, gliding out of the hall, careful to peer through the window one last time to look at her. Their eyes locked for a brief moment as he disappeared into the night, and she could feel her blood boiling, weeks of pent-up frustrations buzzing within her.

She quickly said goodbye to her mother, nodding towards the others before rushing out the door. He was about three blocks away from her, heading towards the docks and she sped up to reach him before he hid in his ship for the evening, mentally thanking the universe that his trademark swagger made him walk a little slower than other ordinary men.

“Hook!” she shouted and he spun around, a wide grin forming on his face as she came into view.

“Swan!” he stated, the joy from his smile evident in his eyes. “To what do I owe this pleasure, m’lady?” He added a playful bow to his statement, causing Emma to shake her head when she finally caught up with him.

“You need to knock it the hell off,” Emma demanded, crossing her arms over her chest, her stance rigid and unwelcoming.

Hook’s gleeful expression fell as his forehead scrunched in bewilderment. “I’m not sure I follow, Swan...”

“The blatant staring, the big, sad eyes,” Emma rattled off, watching as Hook grew increasingly self-aware.

“Emma, darling,” he spoke softly, reaching out for her hesitantly.

But Emma waved him off, sighing when his hand pushed into his jacket pocket. “You need to calm it down because... well, because...”

Hook stepped towards her, close enough to feel her cool exhale wash over his face. She was trembling, her hands passing through her hair, fiddling with her curls. She looked everywhere except him, her eyes staring at the scenery behind him, as if the answer was hidden somewhere in the buildings or trees.

“Because what, love?” Hook asked, his voice low and rich with sincerity, begging her to look at him. “Tell me.” His words sounded more like a demand rather than a suggestion, imploring her to speak, to let out whatever was troubling her mind, but he cursed silently, wondering if her state was indeed caused by his actions.

“Because I can’t handle _this_ ,” she blurted out, gesturing at the space between them. “I can’t handle _you_ right now, not with this bitch lurking around Storybrooke. I need to focus so I’m kindly asking you to cut it the hell out, because I just can’t deal with it right now, okay?”

Hook shuffled backwards, her words feeling like a shot to his heart, a dark curse in its own right. She clearly didn’t appreciate his adoration of her, was annoyed by it, in fact.  Obviously, she didn’t _want_ him, and although she didn’t say it so bluntly, that truth was hidden all throughout her speech.

She didn’t want him. The words hit like a ton of bricks, hanging heavy in his head as they chanted over and over again when he realized they were just a translation for her not _loving_ him.

“Hook, I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s just—”

“No need to explain, love,” he interrupted, walking backwards towards the docks. “I understand completely. You don’t want me. You’ve made that very clear.” He turned around, trying to quicken his pace towards the Jolly Roger. His heart felt like it was shattering, but he couldn’t let her see him this vulnerable.

Emma scoffed, marching after him, grabbing his wrist in hers and turning him around with a force greater than he’d predicted from the savior. “I don’t want you?!”

Hook stood in astonishment, hesitant to speak. “You don’t want me by your side, that’s what you just said.”

Emma released his wrist from her hand in exasperation. “That’s not at _all_ what I said. None of that is what I said. Were you even listening?” she grumbled, her head falling in her hands. She groaned before looking up at him, noticing the loss of hope in his expression (kindred spirits, after all), but she needed to tell him this. “I just meant that I can’t handle your constant reminder that you backed off.”

She pushed at his chest, creasing the leather covering his torso, his mind recalling that he told her he would give her space, allow her to transition back into her real life, the one where her parents were fairytale characters and the mayor was an evil queen and her son’s father was the child of the Dark One.

“I did that for you!” he bellowed, visibly angry at her frustration with what he’d done for _her_. Didn’t she know it was for her own good?

“Oh, yeah?” Emma shouted back, punching his arm this time, more forcefully than her previous blow. “Well, backing off doesn’t mean bumping into me accidentally across town. Backing off doesn’t mean staring at me like I’m some prized jewel. And backing off certainly doesn’t mean calling me ‘love’ or ‘m’lady’ or ‘darling.’”

Hook’s mouth fell agape, staring blankly at this woman whose eyes were filled with such disdain for his recent actions, such irritation for his own sacrifice for her welfare. He wanted to tell her how much the past few weeks had killed him, how seeing her had been the cruelest form of punishment because he knew things couldn’t go back to the way they were prior to the curse, and that just being near her, even if for a brief moment, kept the hope alive in his heart, the hope that she would someday choose him, want him, _love_ him. Hook backed away, watching as her brow creased, her expression puzzled at his lack of reaction.

“Are you seriously going to say nothing?” she demanded, storming after him as he turned away from her, walking down the street again. “God _fucking_ damnnit, Hook!”

Hook hastened his step, refraining from giving her his attention, wishing she’d just give up and leave him alone (but he knew she wouldn’t, he knew she’d press the matter, that’s who she was: stubborn and hard-headed).

“Like hell you are walking away from me, pirate!” she barked, the louder clip-clop of her boots against the pavement causing him to still.

He’d anticipated this.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling to calm himself before spinning around to face her. “Fine, you want a bloody answer,” he scowled, his face full of resentment and pain, the hardness in his eyes causing her to gasp. “I’m bloody done with you. Done with all of this. So don’t expect to accidentally find me at your side any longer. You can fight this wicked witch by yourself, for all I care.”

Emma’s eyes began to well with tears, her bottom lip trembling. She’d expected him to argue, but she never thought he’d do _that_. “You don’t mean it. Take it back,” she whimpered quickly, her bottom lip tucking in under her teeth.

It took all of Hook’s strength to refrain from pulling her into him, wrapping her in his arms, tangling his fingers in her soft locks, shushing her gently, apologizing for his comments. Instead, he reversed his stance, pivoting slowly before striding towards the docks, pushing back the words he so desperately wanted to say, his fist clenched at his side as he attempted to ignore the soft sob he heard escape Emma’s throat.

* * *

Emma finally made her way to the loft, all the while thinking about how stupid she’d been. Hook loved her, she knew that, she always knew that. He never said those three little words, but he always meant it, strategically using statements to show his true feelings.

_Perhaps I would._

_As you wish._

_Until I met you._

_There’s not a day that will go by I won’t think of you._

_An old friend._

And yet, here she was, digging through her fridge, opening up a carton of ice cream on a Friday night, impatiently awaiting Mary Margaret’s return like a lovesick twentysomething, cursing herself for telling him to leave her alone, knowing there were bigger problems to deal with in Storybrooke besides losing the affections of a pining pirate.

Knowing Hook, he would leave. He was a man of honor, a man of his _word_ , and he would do exactly as he said. He would get on his ship, travel to another realm, and never speak to her again because he thought it would make her happy, that it was what she wanted, regardless of the obvious need for his skills against their new opponent (and her obvious need for him in her life, despite whatever she’d just said).

The resentment in his eyes frightened her the most. She’d never seen him that broken, that hurt at her actions, not since the beanstalk, when she’d chained him up and left him to get a head start, and it caused her heart to clench at the thought of the pain she was causing him yet again.

“You alright, Emma?” she could hear from the doorway, noticing as her mother walked in, placing her pea coat and knitted beret on the coat rack before waltzing towards the kitchen counter.

“Yeah,” Emma mumbled, shoving a mouthful of vanilla ice cream in her mouth. Her mother’s expression grew worried, her eyes pressing Emma to open up and Emma felt like a whole slew of feelings were bubbling to the surface that she didn’t entirely want to reveal. “No... I don’t know. It’s nothing.”

Snow tucked her arms underneath her growing belly, raising an eyebrow at her very readable daughter. “Are you sure? Because nothing with you always means _something_.”

For a moment, Emma felt like she was back in cursed Storybrooke, the first one where the woman sitting across from her was her best friend, and they’d sit at the counter and talk about David or Graham or gossip about some other issue in town. For a brief flicker, this was Mary Margaret comforting Emma, not her mother nosing around in her private business.

“It’s just...” Emma sighed, knowing that word would get around to her mother eventually. “Hook and I got into a fight,” Emma finally blurted out, diving back into her ice cream.

Snow smirked a tiny bit. “Oh?”

Emma looked up from the carton, her expression completely dejected. “I think he’s giving up on me.”

Snow’s smug expression turned extremely concerned as she leaned over the counter. “Well, he’s just giving you space,” she began, and Emma grumbled quietly. “Maybe this will be good for Hook. He does need to focus more on his responsibilities with David and Robin and—”

“But I don’t want him to give up!” Emma shouted, throwing her spoon into the carton, causing Snow to jolt. “I should have never told I told him to cut it out.” Emma sighed as she dropped her head in her hands.

Snow shook her head in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“You know, his longing stares and all that. I just told him knock it off,” Emma responded, rubbing her face with her palms.

Snow sighed. “Emma, I know that when your father and I were apart, I missed him terribly. That’s how I knew I _loved_ him.”

Emma’s eyes shot up, realizing the significance of her mother’s advice. Was she implying that she loved Hook? She wasn’t sure of that, but maybe she did. Maybe that’s why she felt this way. Or maybe she was just crazy and reading too much into the statement.

Snow smiled, that motherly stare that made Emma’s heart long for a normal childhood. “What is he to you, Emma?”

Emma groaned at the seriousness of the question. “I’m not sure. Hook and I are just friends.” (She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that her heart swelled a little bit when their combined names rolled off her tongue.)

Snow let a breathless chuckle escape her throat. “Hmm, I think your father would highly disagree.”

Emma’s eyes widened, almost choking on the bit of ice cream she tried to swallow. “Say what?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Snow teased, waddling away to grab a drink from the fridge.

“Mary Margaret Blanchard,” Emma said sternly, huffing when she heard Snow’s lighthearted chuckle. “You’d better tell me what David said.”

Snow practically danced (as much as a pregnant woman could) back to the counter, opening up a bottle of water to take a sip. “Just that he suspects you two are... dare I say it... _true love_.” Snow placed a hand over her heart, fluttering her eyelashes dramatically as if to tease Emma.

Emma groaned, her head crashing down on the counter, hitting her forearms. “Seriously?” she mumbled into her skin, feeling her cheeks growing redder at the mere thought of Hook being her...

“Yeah, seriously,” Snow mocked, watching as Emma lifted herself slowly from a hunched position.

“Are you sure it’s not just because he and the captain are now _mates_?” Emma asked, mimicking the pirate’s accent, causing Snow to snort.

“No,” Snow said, shaking her head, laughing breathlessly. “It’s because your father sees how miserable Hook is without you and how overjoyed he looks when you enter a room, or hears your name, or so much as thinks about you for a moment.”

Emma groaned again, biting her bottom lip. “Oh, crap,” she muttered under her breath.

Snow’s brow furrowed, slightly puzzled as she took another sip of her water. “What?”

Emma sighed, passing her fingers nervously through her hair to calm herself. “When I told Hook I cut it out,” she explained through shaky breaths. “He said that I didn’t want him. But I never said those words.”

“I’m not following, Emma,” Snow interrupted, watching as Emma hurriedly threw the ice cream back in the fridge.

“That’s why he got so angry. Sorry, I’ve gotta go,” Emma rattled off, rushing towards the door, grabbing her leather coat and heading out into the brisk night air. 


	2. Chapter 2

She didn’t want him, didn’t love him.

The words stung as they replayed in his mind. Of course, she never actually said it, but she was an open book to him, and he knew for sure that’s what she meant as he lifted his flask to his lips, sighing when the warm sting trickled down his throat, the only comfort he could find right now, his mind troubled by her feelings.

Emma was his hope, his salvation, his guiding star, but she was falling through his fingers. He had come on too strong, he always did that, always loved too much, too _hard_ , and that’s exactly how he got burned each and every time. He loved his mother and father, but they were both gone, his mother dying while he sat perched at her bedside, his father’s ship a distant blur in the horizon as he watched it sail off. He loved Liam and Milah, but both of them died in his arms, the cold touch of their skin still imprinted on his fingertips.

He’d gone a year without Emma, a year without the electricity she created when he was near her, a year without everything that gave him the ability to hope again, and yet it never felt as painful as the loss of his loved ones, never felt like the memories he so desperately pushed back into the depths of his mind.

The year without her, the year where he knew she was the one, his true love, that year felt like the first time he was truly himself, the first time he felt like he was healed despite her absence. During that year, he wasn't Hook anymore, a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem but _Killian Jones_ , a man of honor, a sailor, a _hero_.

Hook shook his head, sipping on his rum again, thinking of how daft he was to believe he could be any of those things, especially in the eyes of Emma. With Emma, he always thought she’d stay, he always thought he’d have her to keep, thought she’d be different than the rest, but her stern accusations and demands were a firm reminder that she would never love him.

He didn’t belong here in Storybrooke, he didn’t belong by her side, he didn’t deserve to be loved by her and the realization dawned on him that he couldn’t remain here.

He needed to leave.

He could escape the town limits, considering the curse imprisoned all members of the town except for himself, Emma and Henry. He could escape the pain that Emma slipping away would inevitably cause him. It was as simple as _leaving_.

And yet, after a year apart, he couldn’t muster the courage to actually run away from her.

* * *

Emma rushed down the planks of the dock, the Jolly Roger standing tall in her sights, its hull swaying against the gentle waves of the bay. He was insecure, had walls that were just as high, if not higher, than hers and she should have never said those words to him, not when his heart was as cracked and broken as hers.  

She leapt up the gangplank, making her way towards his quarters, knocking fervently on the door. “Hook! Hook!” she demanded, hearing the rustle of furniture on the other side, his feet shuffling towards the latch on the door. “Open up, gooddamnit!” She could hear his sigh, loud and _tired_ , before the sound of the door flap slamming open drowned it out.

Emma gasped when she finally saw him. He looked like a complete wreck, his hair a disheveled mess, his long leather jacket and vest left haphazardly on his small bed, his thin black shirt crumpled and twisted across his body. She scanned his face, noticing the flicker of light in his eyes as she leaned through the small hole leading to the ladder, but it blinked away as quickly as it had appeared.

“Swan,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. “Why are you here?”

Emma bit down on her bottom lip, her whole body tensing as she pushed her way into his quarters, climbing down the ladder and brushing past him without giving him a chance to protest. “I need to talk to you.”

“If you’re here to shout at me some more, I’d rather you not.” Hook grimaced slightly, trying to hide his obvious discomfort at her presence on his ship, his one and only sanctuary.

Emma ignored his objection, turning her back towards him, swallowing thickly, practically forgetting the speech she’d prepared on the walk over here. “Do you remember what you said in Neverland?” she spoke quietly, hearing the soft thud of his boots as he strolled towards her. “You promised me fun.”

“Aye, I remember,” he responded, his figure dangerously close to her, but still far enough away to make her long for him. She could feel his exhale hot on her neck, his breath reeking of rum, the flask left open on the desk, and it killed her that she’d driven him to drink (a habit she’d noticed him partaking in less and less since they were reunited).

Emma exhaled, “But then you backed off. Decided that loving me from afar was better than actually...” Her sentence trailed off, almost unable to finish the thought and when she finally turned around, she was facing his painful expression, realizing how close he’d wandered towards her in her short-lived confusion. “What you didn’t realize...”

“Yes, love?” he interrupted when Emma’s words trailed off again, her gaze staring out into the dark black of the night, calmed by the lull of waves against the ship’s hull, figuring that sound was what drew him here, to the comfort of the water.

She turned back to his gaze, much softer than before, his blue eyes mirroring the ocean, drowning her with the intensity behind them, realizing she was just as drawn to him as he was to the sea. “Well, I didn’t need you to back off. I just needed you to be with me... to... to _love_ me.”

His eyes grew wider in shock, briefly scanning her face, her lips now trembling with the gravity of her statement. “I find that hard to believe, love. I am nothing but a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem.” He raised his hook beside him before gesturing towards the open flask on the table.

She breathed deeply taking his good hand in one of hers, wrapping the fingers of her other hand around the icy steel of his hook. “No, you’re much more than that,” she murmured, pulling him into an embrace, her arms linking behind the small of his back, nuzzling her face into his chest and letting out a long exhale.

He draped his arms around her tightly, noticing as her own hands crept up his back, creating a warm, soothing sensation as traced circles against the sheer fabric of his shirt. He leaned his head against the top of hers, greedily inhaling the scent of lavender wafting from her hair.

“So what am I to you, Emma, if not a bloody pirate?” he mumbled against her golden locks, and she bent her head back slightly, his grip loosening around her waist.

“You’re...” she began, before grinning widely when the thought passed by in her mind. “You’re _Killian Jones_ ,” she responded firmly, noticing his stunned expression at her use of his real name. “You’re a man of honor, the man who saved my son, the man who reunited me with my family, the man who _loves_ me. Just me. Not the savior, not the princess, just Emma.”

She held his stare for a moment longer, letting her words sink in. She watched as his eyes switched from complete awe to deep understanding as he leaned down, capturing her lips in a soft kiss, his body melting into hers as the kiss deepened. She titled her head slightly, fisting the back of his shirt in between her fingers, pushing his body closer into hers. His hand came up to cradle her head, much like he’d done in Neverland when his lips moved hungrily against hers, and in New York when the memories flooded back and all she could do was shudder in his embrace as her supposed life erased from existence in exchange for her real one.

When they broke, both were gasping for air, his forehead resting on hers, his fingers intertwining throughout her locks, her hands drifting up around his torso, linking behind his neck. She opened her eyes, half-lidded as she glanced at him, his expression somewhere between mystification and sheer elation.

“Does this mean I’ve won your heart, Swan?” he asked, chuckling a little bit at the statement as he cocked his head to the side, the self-assured pirate suddenly reappearing, a smug smirk plastered across his face, a distinct contrast to the distressed expression from only a moment ago.

“What do you think?” she whispered, leaning up to steal a chaste kiss, his own lips protesting the hurriedness of it, nipping at hers to convince her to continue.

She sighed into his mouth when she gave in, kissing him over and over again, the trace of his smile evident against her lips. “Well, love... I... think... I’ve... won...” he attempted to say, interrupted by her lips on each accented word until he gave up all together, content with showing her his declaration instead.

 _Won your heart, without any trickery_ , he thought, grinning as she led him towards the bed, their lips hesitant to part as clothes flew haphazardly across his quarters alongside the echoes of sweet nothings whispered against their skin, the night lasting an eternity as they found solace in one another's arms.


End file.
